Blood Brothers
by redsrock
Summary: This story is about two mercenaries named David Greene and Jericho. an NPC from Fallout 3 The story's setting takes place in FO3's D.C. area. Fortunately, for those who haven't played the game, this tale has nothing to do with the Main Quest whatsoever.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One: Gun Control

The carcinogenic smoke rose through the air, a bundle of death resting inside of its cloudy depths. The smoke came from a nasty cigarette, and the cigarette itself came from an old abandoned grocery just a few miles to the southeast. David knew this because he and Jericho had just looted it for anything that was worth selling for caps. The two were mercenaries of the Wasteland, two extremely close friends with totally different backgrounds and morals.

"Jesus, Jericho, do you _have_ to smoke that now? Why not wait until I go to sleep in a few hours? You have guard duty tonight anyway."

David couldn't stand it when Jericho smoked because it almost always led to a headache. Smoke from cigarette had always had a negative effect on him ever since Jericho let him try one after their first official contract together.

"Hell no, kid. I gotta have it now. You don't understand…sometimes I can't just _wait_ to take a smoke. And definitely not three fucking hours, that's for sure."

Jericho continued to smoke his Monty's Best cigarette, so David rolled his eyes and took out an orange he had stolen from the grocery. Normally he would have to suffer through the smoke, but this time he had something to help. He took out an orange that he had stolen from the grocery, and then cut in half with a hand-me-down switchblade his older brother had given to him long ago.

"Sonofabitch, kid, what the hell are you doing with that?" Jericho asked. "Those get us about five caps, maybe more depending on who we're sellin' to!"

"Yeah, well…I don't like the smoke. It gives me a headache, and I don't want a headache tonight. I want to actually be able to sleep this time. The smell from this orange is the only thing I got that'll block out that smelly shit of yours."

Jericho shook his head and continued to smoke the cigarette for a few more minutes until there was nothing left to smoke. Then he tossed it to the floor and smashed it with his right foot. He looked at David, who was looking at into the distance from the broken-down bus they were resting in, and saw the orange still close to his nose. He chuckled at this, shaking his head once more. "Kid…you're an idiot sometimes. If you ask me, you might as well go ahead and get used to smoking. Cause we ain't gonna retire anytime soon. Besides, it's been what…seven months now? I figure you'd be used to the smell. It ain't that bad anyway."

"To you it's not, but to me it is."

David tossed his friend a half of the orange, and the two ate it up within seconds, not having eaten anything the entire day. Jericho threw what he didn't eat, which was mainly the outside skin, out of the bus. "Say, Kid…we can't keep eating our food like this. Megaton ain't but about ten miles away. We can wait till then."

"Ten miles?" David asked curiously after throwing his own orange away. "Are you sure about that?"

"Yeah, cause we passed that old vault not too longer ago. Why, what are you thinking?"

"Hell, if it's that close is there really a need to sleep? We should be able to get there before the sun rises if we leave now. It's only eleven o'clock."

"Shit…you're right. Let's move."

The two stood up from their torn bus seats, strapped their backpacks and gathered the rest of their gear—including the loot bag that held all of the items they'd be selling, most of it weapons and ammo from dead Raiders and anyone else willing to step in their way—and started on their way towards Megaton in to the east.

About halfway along the trip it began to rain. At first it was only a few droplets here and there, but within minutes it started to pick up. It only worsened from there, to the point that neither could see more than a few feet in front of them. Jericho was cussing up a storm, blaming David because he wanted to travel through the night. David blamed nobody, because he had enough sense to realize it was by chance that the rain had found them. They marched in the rain for no more than ten or so minutes until they eyed a tiny, one-story house to their right, next to a few other houses that were almost completely destroyed. It looked old and uninhabited, but none of that mattered to them. At this point they were willing to pay caps to stay if anyone was living inside.

"Come on, kid, let's knock on the door," Jericho said as he shielded his eyes from the monsoon of sharp rain hitting his skin. They both ran to the door and Jericho knocked. At first there was no reply, but after he knocked once more, a shrill voice came from within inside.

"Gimme a minute, will ya'?" The door swung open, and there stood a little old man no more than four feet tall. He was grabbing at his long gray beard as he looked Jericho and Dave up and down for several seconds. Then he smiled a wide grin. "Whatcha' doin in the rain, fellas? Come on in!"

Without hesitation, the two entered the house, happy to get out of the storm. Thunder boomed through the sky violently, shaking the house and making David jumped. Jericho chuckled, and then turned his attention to the little man. "Thanks for letting us get outta the rain. Can we stay for the night?"

"Why of course!" the old man exclaimed cheerfully, his large stomach bouncing up and down. "The name's Rex. Rex Bavadine. It's good to see some of you fellas out here. I don't see many mercs around these parts anymore."

Jericho and David exchanged confused looks. "What makes you think we're mercs?" David asked.

"Come on, boy! I may be short, but ain't stupid! You're carrying guns, first off all, and-"

"Everybody in the Wasteland carries guns," Jericho interrupted, hoping to one-up the old man. "If not, then they're fuckin' stupid."

"Yes, that is true, young fella. But…you're carrying an awful large pack, and you're wearing armor. You are mercenaries, and don't try and tell me no different than that! I used to be one m'self," Rex answered proudly.

"Oh really?" Jericho asked, smiling at the man's size and trying to imagine him as a mercenary.

"Oh, you betcha'! What I lack in size I make with me sheer will to succeed. My old crew used to call me Mighty Midget."

Both David and Jericho cracked up laughing; David because he couldn't help himself, and Jericho because he thought it was hilarious.

"You laugh now, fellas," Rex said, laughing along like a good sport would. "But I tell ya'…one of you fight with me and see what happens."

Jericho and David just kept laughing, not entirely sure as to whether Rex was serious or playing around.

"I mean it! Challenge me…any one of ya'! We'll make a friendly bet out it. I tell you what…._both_ you fight with me…no weapons, just fists only. If I give up first, you get my house and everything in it, and I'll just be on my merry way. But if I win…if I win, I get all of your loot."

Rex stepped back a few paces and crossed his arms, the widest smile spread on his hair face that David had ever seen.

"You can't be serious, old man," Jericho commented, the laughing having already ceased.

"Oh, I am. I most dearly am."

"How old are you?"

"Fifty-two and not a day older. Come on…ya' scared?"

"Fuck no!" By this time Jericho was getting louder, feeling that the man was paying him major disrespect. "I just don't wanna hurt you. I mean come on, you don't even rise above my dick!"

Rex never faltered, he just kept on smiling. "Words can only get you so far, boy. I know your kind. All talk and no walk. Come on…try me."

David didn't like where things were going. It seemed so easy, beating up a little old man. But he knew something was wrong. Something didn't feel right.

"Jericho, let's just leave. Megaton isn't _that_ far away."

"Shit, kid…you may be scared of this little bitch, but I ain't." He dropped his backpack to the floor and scooted his supplies off to the side. "Come on, Davie, he's a midget! What's to be worried about?"

David didn't know how to answer, because he didn't even have one. There was simply something about Rex he didn't like. "This doesn't feel right. He's hustling us. I just know he is…"

Jericho shook his head from side to side, his angered eyes glaring right into Rex's calm eyes. "No, this little shit is gonna get what he deserves! After we're through with him he's gonna fucking regret it!"

Jericho suddenly charged Rex, who was still as calm as could be. When Jericho raised his fist to punch, Rex kicked him in the stomach. Jericho bent over and then Rex kicked him in the mouth. Jericho fell to the floor, spitting out blood from his mouth. He tried tackling the man, but Rex sidestepped the attack, and then jumped on Rex's back. He grabbed his arm and pulled it, and Jericho screamed out in pain. That's when David ran over and kneed the man in the back of the head, knocking him off of Jericho. The two mercenaries and were on one side of the small, cramped room, and Rex stood on the other.

"I'll let ya' quit now if ya' want, but this is your last chance."

Without answering, Jericho pulled out his .44 magnum and pointed it at Rex's head. "You motherfuckin' cheater…you kicked me! You said fists only, midget bastard!"

Rex titled his head sideways, and then sighed heavily. "Hmm…it seems you're right, boy. I _did_ cheat. But I swear I didn't mean to. I must've been the competiveness in me. I do hope you'll forgive me. How about we just call the whole thing off and forget about it? I shouldn't have even done this. Lucy used to tell I was too rowdy...before the dogs took her that is."

"No!" Jericho yelled, still pointing the gun to Rex's head. "Give me all your goddamn caps or I'll blow you motherfuckin' head off!"

"Jericho!" David yelled, taken back by his partner's rage. It was normal for him to cop an attitude, but to threaten an innocent man's life? That was _not_ normal. "Let's just go!"

The three stood there, no one smiling or laughing this time. Rex was seconds away from dying, and he knew this. "Listen…I didn't mean any harm, fella…I swear to ya'. I only have about thirty caps to my name. But if that's really what ya' want I'll give 'em to ya'. Just don't kill me. Please…"

Jericho moved closer to the man and touched his temple with the pistol. Then he whispered just loud enough for the whole room to hear, "Not so tough now, are you, midget? Not so tough with a fuckin' gun against your head, are you? I should shoot your sorry ass and take whatever you got here. I'd be doing everyone a favor. No one likes a bitchy midget."

Rex was starting to tear up, the tears running down his rosy red cheeks. His entire body was trembling. He didn't want to die.

"Jericho, leave him alone!" David pleaded. But Jericho wouldn't listen. He wasn't finished yet.

"Tell me why I shouldn't blow your motherfuckin' head off, will ya'? I really want to know…cause it's gonna take a lot for me not to. I don't take shit from no one. I sure the hell wish you would have found this out sooner."

"Please...please just leave," Rex pleaded, bawling now.

Finally David had had enough. He took the gun from Jericho's hand before he even knew what was going on. "Dammit, Jericho, let's go! Now!"

At first it appeared Jericho was going to hit David. But he thought about it, and then turned back to Rex, who was still trembling just as much as before. Jericho spit at his shoes, picked up his gear from across the room, and then headed towards the exit of the house muttering something under his breath. But before he actually left, he turned around and looked at Rex. "You're fuckin' lucky Davie was here to bail you out. The next merc that comes through here won't be quite as nice. Fuckin' prick…" Then he walked out of the house, slamming the door behind him.

"Thank you, thank you!" Rex said as he tried to hug David. David simple stepped back and said, "He _was_ right, you know. You did cheat, and you have been a prick to us, especially Jericho. I don't know if you meant it, but just watch yourself from now on. Jericho was right…the next merc _won't_ be as nice."

Without letting Rex respond, David gathered his gear and headed outside to meet up with Jericho. Ironically enough, the rain had for the most stopped, and was now more of a slight drizzle than anything.

"You ready?" he asked.

"Yeah, let's get the fuck outta here."

They walked in silence for most of the way. Then, as they reached the top of a hill, they could see the nightlights of Megaton just a few miles away. The light illuminated the sky so brightly, so bright that David almost felt drawn to them in a way. It was so amazing to him how well people could live with each other in one large community. He himself had grown up in the southwest of the Wastelands, where there were mostly small settlements here and there; but for the most part it had been every family for themselves. David admired the people of Megaton. So much that he hoped to be one of them someday.

"I couldn't help it, kid, and you know it," Jericho suddenly said, snapping David back into reality.

"Huh?"

"Back there at that midget's house…I couldn't help myself. I just…I was so angry, you know? The bitch would have deserved it though."

"Oh…that. Well, you do get angry sometimes. Just…just try and gain control of yourself. He wasn't a truly bad man, Jericho. Just lonely, that's all."

"I know. But I used to be a Raider, remember? And we did shit that I never want to think about again." He shook his head several times, as if shrugging off a bad nightmare that wouldn't go away. "It felt so good holding that gun to his head, having all the power. You know what I mean, kid? A gun is a powerful weapon. More powerful than words. More power than control. A gun _is_ control, especially out here in the Wastelands. Remember that, alright? Who knows what'll happen to me. With my quick mouth I'll probably get my ass shot sooner or later. But hell…I'm still alive now, right?"

"To be totally honest, Jericho…you really are one intimidating sonofabitch. There's a reason most people at Megaton don't like to be around you. It's mostly because you piss them off," David said laughing. "But I _do_ think part of it is that they know you used to be a Raider. Unfortunately enough."

"Yeah. Bastards think I'll just suddenly snap someday out of nowhere. You think that'll happen? I think about it sometimes…I dream about it to, you know."

"I wouldn't look too much into it. It's been what, ten years since you Raider days? If you haven't done anything by now, I'm pretty sure you'll be alright."

David patted Jericho on the shoulder, who in turn just nodded. "Yeah…that's what I keep telling myself."


	2. Chapter 2

_**Chapter Two: The Good and the Bad**_

Because of their unexpected encounter with Rex, by the time they actually made it to Megaton the sun was already starting to rise from the depths of its nighttime hiding spot. Still, it was only a quarter past six, and the shops didn't open until eight; except for the clinic of course, which stayed open all through the day and night. But neither the shops nor the clinic were the two mercenaries' destination.

Jericho and David walked up the small hill that led to the city, passing by Deputy Weld, Megaton's Protectron "greeter". "Hello there, humans! Welcome to Megaton! Please wait while I check your threat level assessment." The two waited patiently for the few seconds in took for the robot to check their threat levels, a regular procedure performed on everyone wishing to enter the city. "Threat level minimal. You may enter Megaton. Have a wonderful day!" Deputy Weld said in his cheerful robot voice.

The two entered through the city gates, passing under a long metal bridge suspended above them and supported by two large metal beams. A lone man was sitting in a chair on the bridge, holding an old hunting rifle and listening to some song on a radio. His name was Stockholm, and he was a sniper that kept the wild animals and creatures from entering the city. He had always been there when Jericho and David made their way into the city, and as he always did, he waved at the two mercenaries as they passed through the entrance.

Inside, the city was just only beginning to wake up. There were only a few people milling about, most of them workers heading home, having already had drinks at Moriarty's Saloon after finishing their nightshift. Lucas Simms, the African-American Sheriff of Megaton, walked up to the two and tipped his hat. "Mornin', boys," he said, his deep and ageing southern-voice rumbling from his mouth.

"Good morning, Sheriff," David offered politely. "Anything happen while we've been gone?"

"Nah, not much. A couple of bar fights here and there, but what else is new?"

"Nothing, I suppose. How's Hardy doing?"

Harden Simms was the Sheriff's son. Hardy's a tough little boy himself, destined to someday take over where his father will eventually leave off. "The usual. He's about to turn thirteen in a few months, and he already thinks that he knows everything. I ain't looking forward to his teenage years, especially if they are anything like mine were."

David laughed at this, but Jericho merely forced out a chuckle and then walked past the two. "I'll be at Moriarty's," he told David as he walked off.

Once he was out of earshot, Simms asked David, "When's he gonna learn he don't have to be a hardass around me?"

"He doesn't mean anything by his hostility, Sheriff. It's just the way he was brought up."

"Yeah…and that's what I don't like. I know he ain't a Raider anymore, but he sure the hell used to be. I've heard the stories about him, and I don't like any of 'em."

"Sheriff, we've been passing through here back and forth for an entire month now. I assure you he won't do anything wrong. He's a changed man." David was slightly lying with that last sentence, and he knew it himself. But he wasn't about to tell the Sheriff about their run-in with Rex. Not when the Sheriff was looking for any excuse to boot Jericho out of town.

"I like you, Davie, you know that. But I _don't_ like him. I know the feeling is mutual, and that's all good and gravy. But you know I have my eye on him. You best better do the same, and keep him from fucking up. Cause if he does, I swear I'll end him. I have to protect my town, no matter what the costs."

"I understand, Sheriff, but again…there's nothing to worry about."

"Very well. I should be getting to my rounds now. See ya' around, Davie."

David nodded and then walked up the ramp to Moriarty's Saloon, where his partner was waiting for him. It would be fair to say, though Sheriff Simms would never admit it, that Colin Moriarty ran Megaton. His saloon was by far the most successful business in the city, and he himself was the most popular person. The ladies adored his charm and the men enjoyed his cheap food, and even cheaper alcohol. He had worked hard to gain what he has now, and the result has power that not even the Sheriff holds. Jericho was already speaking with Colin when David walked through the door and into the saloon.

Colin was telling some joke that Jericho was laughing to. Jericho wasn't much of a talker outside of David, but he did seem to enjoy Colin's company. Like Jericho, Colin was somewhat of a smartalic. But unlike Jericho, it was usually done in a playful manner. "Hey, Davie! Good to see you back! Jericho tells me everything went smoothly. Is that so?"

"Yes, sir, it is."

"Good, good, good!" he said, rubbing his hands together. "Come with me to the back and we can discuss matters privately."

Colin led the two behind the counter, and back into his private office. Decorated on the walls were a few posters of women with barely any clothing on, as well as an extremely old Brooklyn Dodgers pennant. Three empty whisky bottles were on his desk, and beside them, a small, locked wooden chest. David knew exactly what it was. It was payday.

"Here you are, boys! I thank you for taking care of that bastard, Timothy. I simply can't let anyone rip me off and get away with." Colin handed the box to David, who found that it was rather heavy, or at least heavier than he expected it would be. "One thousand caps, just like I told ya'," he said in his thick, Irish accent. "I bet that's more than anything you've gotten so far, eh?"

"It sure the fuck is," Jericho said as he snatched the box from David and proceeded to open it. He took some of the caps in his hand and just started at them as if they were gold, which was ironic since most of the caps were from old bottles. "Now we can stop rentin' rooms here, and we can finally buy that goddamn vacant house by the entrance."

"Yeah, that's exactly what I was thinking," David said. At last, as he wanted it, he would officially be part of Megaton. To truly be part of a community was very important to him, for reasons he did not yet know. "Let's go ahead and talk with the Sheriff. I'm really tired."

He and Jericho thanked Colin for the caps, and then excitingly left the house to find the Sheriff. Or rather, _David_ left to find the Sheriff. Since Jericho didn't want to talk to him, he stayed behind, ordering a round of beer for everyone present, including Colin himself. David found the Sheriff talking with Jenny Stahl, the part-owner of the bar "The Brass Lantern", along with her husband and his brother. Once the Sheriff realized David wanted talk with him, he left Jenny and walked over.

"Somethin' on your mind, boy?"

"Yeah. Jericho and I want to buy the vacant house up there on the hill. How much is it?"

"I take it this would make you and your partner permanent residents of the city, eh?" He asked, and David knew he was thinking about Jericho in particular. The Sheriff didn't have any immediate problems with David.

"Yes, at least for the time being. There's always jobs for people like us, though."

Simms chuckled. "Yeah…people like you. Well, I guess I can sell you the house, but it's gonna cost you. It's the last house in the city available for purchase."

"Yeah? House much?"

"Eight-thousand caps I'm afraid. And I can't go any lower than that," he replied, a sly, devilish smile spread about his face. He knew exactly what he was doing.

"What?" David asked, not quite believing what he was hearing. "When we arrived here a month ago you were offering it for eight-hundred!"

"Yes, but that was a month ago. Things change," he responded, his smile fading not a bit.

_Bullshit…you just don't want us here. That's what this is all about._ "That's not fair, Sheriff. I know why you're doing this. You don't want Jericho here, that's what."

"No, I believe you're mistakin', boy. But watch your tone; I don't quite like it right now. You know…I suppose I could give you the house for, say, five-hundred caps. But only cause I like you, Davie."

"What's the catch though?"

He chuckled again. "Well…now that you mention it, there's a cave filled with Raiders not too far from here." He smiled because he knew what he was getting Jericho into if David accepted the proposal. Though he and Jericho had killed plenty of Raiders on the surface, they had never traveled into one of their lairs. Jericho didn't want to…he couldn't.

"You sonofabitch," David whispered, just loud enough for the Sheriff to here. "No…we can't do that. And we can't afford eight-thousand caps either. Why are you doing this, Sheriff?"

Simms just continued to smile. "I need to protect my city, boy. You two are mercenaries, so I figure you can handle the job. If not, I guess that house is gonna have to stay empty."

David shook his head and walked away before he said something he'd regret. As he was walking away, the Sheriff said, "The offer's still on the table, boy. You know where to find me if you change your mind."

"WHAT THE FUCK?"

To avoid trouble, not to mention the fearful stares, David had taken Jericho out of the city to break the news to him. He knew how angry he'd be, and he didn't want Jericho to cause a scene with all those people around. "What do you mean eight-thousand caps? It was only eight-_hundred_ when we first fuckin' got here!"

"I know, Jericho. He obviously doesn't want us actually living here. And we obviously can't do what he wants us to do, so-"

"No…we're fuckin' doing it, that's for sure!"

"What? Jericho, it's a Raider lair. Do you honestly think you'd be able to handle it? Think about it for a second…"

"I can do it, kid, don't worry about me. It's been years since then anyway. Besides, I need to do some killin' to get rid of this anger."

"Jericho…"

"Goddammit, don't give me that look! We're doing it! Besides, if we don't do it, we'll be letting Sheriff Shithead win. And I can't let that happen."

"So this is about your own personal vendetta with him? Is that it?"

"No. Just fuckin' listen for a second, kid. You are really good with hacking computers and fixing locks. You're not bad with a gun either, but I know your kind. You've told me your life story, about how you grew up living richly with mommy and daddy up north. You haven't lived in the Wasteland like I have. Sometimes you just have to do things, and you really don't have to have an answer for it. This is one of those. We can't let this prick control us. Like I said, we're doing this. Go tell the Sheriff to give us the location of the lair, and we'll leave this afternoon."

He proceeded to walk back into the city, and David called out, "Where the hell are you going now?"

"To get another drink."

David didn't want to go on this mission. Not that he was scared, but rather he was afraid for Jericho. Through this thick skin, there was a bit of softness. David had asked a lot of questions about his Raider life when they first met up, and Jericho never really liked discussing any of it. He spoke of evils that he would never be able to forget…things so bad that it gave him constant nightmares. But Jericho had made his decision, and David knew there was no turning back.

He walked back into the city and found the Sheriff not too far away from where he had talked to him earlier. "We've changed our mind, Sheriff. We'll do it."

"Good," he replied with that same devilish smile. "Follow me to my office, and I'll give you a map that'll direct you towards their hideout."


End file.
